


Now and Always

by nu-exo (Nekohime)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Smut, cursed spirit!ten, hunters!taemin and jongin, they're in love :'), vampire!Taeyong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekohime/pseuds/nu-exo
Summary: Ten had always been a bit like a magpie: drawn to the shiny and pretty.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 14
Kudos: 187





	Now and Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bergam0t](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergam0t/gifts).



> Thank you so much for commissioning me Jiani, and trusting me with your au!! I absolutely fell in love with it and had a blast writing this :')
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and I hope I did your lovely characters justice!! ❤︎

Ten had always been a bit like a magpie: drawn to the shiny and pretty.

It was often against his better judgement, but when you honed yourself to hunt monsters and spirits for a living, your better judgement typically worked on a different scale.

That shift had served him mostly well, in his hunter days—memories he looked back on with rose-colored lenses and a tinge of bitter regret—right up until he’d been clever enough to find the golden horns of a long dead holy beast, touching them and bringing a curse of raw anger roaring down upon himself.

Then, it hadn’t.

Or, maybe it had.

Ten drew back from the haze of his thoughts, back to the present where he was sitting on damp, leaf-strewn dirt with a silent forest rising up around him, arms propped on bent knees and back pressed against the rough sturdy frame of a broad trunk. His knuckles were bloody, his head hurt in time with a dull, pulsing ache, and his mouth tasted like ash.

He felt like shit, but he usually did—especially after a rage—so he focused in on Taeyong settled a little ways away from him instead. Taeyong who’d been trying to quietly slurp away while Ten pulled himself together again. Taeyong who’d been casting him furtive glances he probably thought Ten wasn’t noticing, checking in and making sure Ten was okay. Taeyong, who had a half-dead body held in a white-knuckled grip, mouth latched onto the person’s exposed neck, round, lovely eyes narrowed into a grimace as he drained them dry.

Ten’s lips tugged up into a small, barely-there smile.

He hated the loss of control he experienced when the qilin’s curse took over, the spirit of the holy beast seizing him and enacting its revenge on any who were near. It terrified him on a level he’d never feel comfortable expressing, but, if there was one good thing that occasionally came from the carnage he left in his wake, it was the meal Taeyong could finally have.

“Sorry,” Ten said, his voice rough, throat scratchy.

Taeyong looked up at him, startled, shoulders jumping. His eyes were glowing a vibrant pinkish-red, and when he detached his mouth from the body he was feeding from, his lips and chin were slick with blood.

Ten’s small smile grew unbidden, striking an odd contrast to the usual tart disappointment he felt after a rampage. 

_Such a messy eater_.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Taeyong said, licking his lips and his hands, completely missing the smears of blood on his cheeks and nose. “We’d have to leave eventually anyway.”

Ten’s chest clenched, a sharp stab of hurt arching through him. “I’m sorry about that too.”

Taeyong frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

Ten felt his smile turn a touch sad, too tired to cover it up like he normally would, his horns still throbbing at the base where they met bone. “I know.”

He forced himself up onto his feet with a grunt, ignoring the chill along his ass where the dampness from the forest floor had seeped through his jeans. He walked over to where Taeyong was still kneeling, looking up at Ten’s approach with a curious blink and furrowed brows.

“You missed a spot,” Ten said softly, sinking to the ground in front of Taeyong with practiced grace. He brought a hand up to cup Taeyong’s cheek, thumbing softly at his skin—perfect, smooth, immortal. “Here.”

He leaned up the few centimeters necessary to press a wet kiss to the pronounced cut of Taeyong’s cheekbone, tongue darting out to lick away the smudge of blood that had escaped Taeyong’s attempts to clean up.

Under his touch, Taeyong shuddered, eyes fluttering closed, the tips of his lashes brushing feather light across Ten’s own cheek.

“We would’ve had to leave anyway,” Taeyong whispered, a hand come up to tangle in the back of Ten’s shirt—a billowy thing Taeyong had swiped for him because he’d said it looked pretty. “Even without you having a fit, we would’ve had to leave.”

Because they were in the city for Taeyong to feed, and Taeyong always pushed himself to the point where his feeding resulted in a desperate, starved frenzy.

But still… 

“You needed a better meal than this.”

Taeyong turned his head, chasing Ten’s lips to seal them in a slick kiss, licking hungrily into Ten’s mouth and nipping at Ten’s bottom lip, blood drunk and eager.

“This was fine,” Taeyong breathed out when they parted, looking up at Ten with dazed wonder and affection Ten didn’t deserve.

_This_ was five half-dead bodies—now all drained—who’d gotten caught in Ten’s wake, left damaged beyond repair. _This_ , Ten knew from having lived alongside Taeyong for a good handful of years now, was not enough.

“Next time,” Ten promised, nudging Taeyong back into a seated position and crawling forward onto his lap.

“Next time,” Taeyong agreed, brushing a hand over Ten’s broken horn and through his pale hair, accepting him with open arms.

Yes, Ten had always been like a magpie—attracted to the beautiful—but, looking at Taeyong, who could blame him?

—

“Hold still,” Ten frowned, yanking a shard of holy iron out of Taeyong’s back with a grunt, cutting the pads of his own fingers in the process, black smoke wafting up as the small wounds immediately sealed over.

Taeyong whined, wincing as Ten prodded at another large fragment lodged just below his shoulder blade.

He was lying belly down on the cool, dusty concrete floor of the construction site they’d ducked into while running from a team of hunters, vital blood seeping out from his wounds at a sluggish pace, pooling and staining the ground under him.

His eyes were glazing over in a way that had worry sparking hot and sharp along the back of Ten’s neck, leaving him desperately wishing that Taeyong could feed off him. That he could be a source of nourishment for Taeyong, who refused to ever be _full_. That he could actually _help_ this stupid, gentle vampire who feared what he was more than he feared death, and let himself starve for it.

_As if that would be a balanced penance_ , Ten mentally scoffed, soothing a hand down the line of Taeyong’s spine while he pulled out the last few bits of blessed shrapnel in quick succession. _As if curses were ever so simple_.

“You should've killed them,” Ten said, disapproving. “If you’d killed them, they wouldn’t have been able to regroup and shoot you.”

Taeyong grunted, lashes fluttering as his body finally started to heal. “They were children,” he mumbled. 

“They,” Ten started, “were adults. Probably older than you were when you got bitten.”

Taeyong sighed, reaching an arm out blindly, humming—purring, really—when Ten took his hand and laced their fingers together. “Still…”

“No,” Ten said, gentle but firm, bringing their hands up to press a trail of lingering kisses to Taeyong’s knuckles. “Next time,” because there would be a next time—there always was, “you kill them.” He kissed the back of Taeyong’s hand, hiding a toothy grin against Taeyong’s cold skin when the vampire let out a mild grunt of discomfort at the angle his arm had been pulled into. Ten raised his head, lowering their hands back down to his lap, smiling when he met Taeyong’s exhausted red-eyed gaze. “Do it quickly, painlessly, if you want,” he said, “but kill them.”

Taeyong held his stare, breathing out a slow sigh, disturbing some of the construction dust on the floor around them.

“Okay.”

Ten’s smile softened. He brought their hands back up for one last peck before pushing himself up to his feet, patting ineffectually at his pants—the once dark material worn and faded and ready for replacement.

He knew Taeyong was lying. Knew from the pursed-lipped pause and the slight whisper quality to his voice.

It was okay, though.If Taeyong didn’t want to kill them, Ten would do it himself. 

Ten’s lips twitched up into a bitter smirk. 

After all, what was a little more blood on his already stained hands for the man he loved?

—

Ten separated his life into two main phases: Before, and After. 

Before was Ten, cocksure and reckless, running around the world killing things that went bump in the night. 

Before, was full of adventure, bright and sharp, even as it was covered over with the soft nostalgic haze all memories tended to be draped in. 

Sure, Before led right up to Ten’s search for the qilin’s horns. Right up to him finding them—hidden carefully under a spell cast at death and buried under the ruins of a witch’s workshop—touching them, and feeling them latch on. The qilin’s anger something no one had talked about in the legends of its remains, a beast of its own that hungered blindly for revenge, for destruction, for a justice it wouldn’t get.

But that was the Middle—the blurry, painful, vague part of Ten’s life that filled up hundreds of years. The part that he likened to a prolonged blackout with moments of guilt ridden lucidity.

Ten didn’t like to think about the Middle, not when it already plagued his nightmares.

He’d rather let his thoughts drift to Before. Before was fine. Before was good. 

Or to After. After was even better, because After was _now_. 

It was life post a hard-to-remember encounter with a beautiful demon, whose magic had glowed a fierce blue as she’d snarled and hissed, snapping one of his golden horns in half—unintentionally freeing him from the consistent blurred rages his nights had become.

After, was Taeyong—in all his heartbreakingly beautiful glory—and a happiness Ten didn’t deserve.

After was rough, filled with narrow escapes and more collateral damage than either of them wanted to think about, but After was _worth it_.

Ten smiled, mind quieting, thoughts coming to a calm stand-still as he brought himself back into the moment. Back to the nondescript hotel room Taeyong had glamoured their way into, eyes glowing a bright, glittering crimson. Back to the too-firm single they were squeezed on. Back to Taeyong, naked and lovely, legs on either side of Ten, chest rising in quick, unnecessary breaths, his eyes darkened to a deep ruby with arousal.

“Where did you go?” Taeyong asked, voice coming out rich and inviting, like a slow trickle of warm honey—the benefits of a good meal for once, pushed for by Ten who refused to take no for an answer.

Ten hummed, leaning forward from where he was kneeling to place a kiss to the taut skin of Taeyong’s belly, warm with fresh, borrowed blood, savoring the quiet hiccup Taeyong let out in response. “Just thinking.”

Taeyong huffed out a sound that would’ve been a laugh had Ten not decided to lick a strip up the V of his hips at that moment, the noise coming out as more of a strained whine instead.

“You— _ah_ ,” Taeyong squirmed, hips lifting from the bed in search of friction, a hand coming down to grip at the short silvery strands of Ten’s hair while Ten sucked and bit at the skin just above the junction of Taeyong’s thigh and hip. “You’ve been doing that a lot— _mm_ —recently.”

Ten pressed a smile against Taeyong’s skin, crawling forward in a graceful prowl, a big cat cornering its prey. When he was comfortably blanketing Taeyong’s prone form, he lowered himself to his forearms, placed on either side of Taeyong’s head.

“Have I?” he asked, voice a whisper between them, curled around a teasing grin.

Taeyong, a hand still in Ten’s hair, gave a gentle tug. “Yes. It’s been too quiet. It’s been…” Taeyong paused, nibbled on his lip with a pointed canine, deliberating, “...lonely.”

Ten’s smile softened, a warm, overwhelming rush of affection filling his chest, spilling over and out all the way down to his fingers and toes.

“Sorry, love,” he said, kissing the corner of Taeyong’s mouth, lingering to tuck a huff of amusement there when Taeyong shivered under him. “Didn’t mean to leave you like that.”

“It’s not—” Taeyong sighed, brows furrowing as he tried to think through the haze of the moment. “It’s okay. It just...worries me. You never— _oh_ ,” he cut off, back arching up as Ten rolled his hips down, brushing their erections together in a slow grind, Ten sending a silent thank you to magic for allowing Taeyong to at least be able to still experience _this_. “You—fuck, I— _Ten_.”

Ten knew what Taeyong was trying to say. Knew that he’d been distant lately, retreating into his thoughts more, traveling down into the spiralling tumble of his memories, his regrets. Knew that Taeyong wished he’d talk about it, share the burden of it, the same way that Ten had drawn Taeyong’s stories out into the light between them.

That would involve more than Taeyong knew, though. It’d mean sharing things that Ten hated about himself—his greed, his hubris, his arrogance—which, even if Taeyong teasingly told Ten he knew about already, the truth was he didn’t. Not really.

And today, today of all day’s, he didn’t want to open that door. Another day, maybe. But not today.

“I know, love.” A kiss pressed to the apple of Taeyong’s cheek, earning him a sharp tug and a look of clear-eyed frustration with a dash of disapproval. Ten chuckled low in his throat, so helplessly fond of this dumb man who’d probably always thought more than he said, even before he’d been given the burden of a hungry immortality. “I know,” Ten said again, pushing his bottom lip into a pout whose effect he could see flicker through Taeyong’s red eyes, feel in the stuttered press of hips against his own. “Let me make it up to you?”

Taeyong crumbled like a seaside cliff free-falling to the wild waters below.

“I still want to talk,” he panted against Ten’s mouth while Ten stroked Taeyong’s cock with one hand, fumbling around for the little bottle of lube they’d _creatively acquired_ with the other.

“Another day,” Ten said, kissing him deep, tongue sliding in to curl with Taeyong’s, messy and spit slick like Taeyong preferred. “I promise.” 

Taeyong dissolved into a puddle of gasps and punched out little whines after that, Ten teasing a lubed up finger around his hole, pressing in and pushing deep when Taeyong tried to cant his hips down.

Ten stretched him, faster than he should’ve but still too slow for Taeyong’s liking, adding a second finger when the vampire’s body gave to the initial intrusion. He worked his fingers in and out of Taeyong’s body, adding more lube than necessary to ease the slide—not that Taeyong ever seemed to care much.

“’S fine,” he urged, body stuttering between bucking up into the hand on his cock and arching down onto the fingers pressing just shy of his prostate, body singing with an old magic Ten could feel in his bones. He was panting, mouth open and fangs on full display, the points sharper and longer than Ten had seen them in a while. “You can—ngh— _’lease, Ten_.”

Ten hummed, licked at a fang, slid in a third finger, smiling at the almost guttural sound that rumbled out of Taeyong’s chest in response. Taeyong’s body hugged Ten’s fingers tight, trying to suck them in and hold them there so Taeyong could thrust back down and use them as he pleased. Ten would cum on the spot if he tried to press in with his cock now; as it was he felt like he was going to regardless, his erection hanging red and angry between his legs, almost painfully hard and smearing precum against Taeyong’s thigh.

“A little bit more, love,” Ten told him, his own voice coming out strained and breathless, arousal a fire roaring through his veins, building and flowing from the molten coil curling tight somewhere between the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine. “Just a little more.”

When Ten finally pulled his fingers free, Taeyong as loose as his body would get, it was to a high keen pushed from Taeyong’s throat and nails pressing in to the muscle of Ten’s back.

When he finally pushed _in_ —his cock slick with the rest of the lube—it was to the nails at his back breaking skin, tiny pin-pricks of pain sparking bright down his spine, mingling with the flood of blind pleasure warming him from head to toe as his cock pressed deeper and deeper into Taeyong’s feeding-related heat.

It was a bit of a frenzy from there, Ten and Taeyong similar in their greed when it came to each other. Both a little possessive, a little too attached, and more than okay with it. Halves of a whole who found each other at their darkest moments.

Ten fucked into Taeyong’s body with swift thursts, a pleasant burn settling in his muscles that snaked its way down to his toes. Their room filled with the soft sounds of their intermingled breathing—habit on Taeyong’s part even after all these years—their moans and gentle whines curling around each other, mirroring the twining of their bodies with how Taeyong’s legs had come up to lock around the small of Ten’s back, his arms winding tight around his neck and shoulders. 

The wet squelch of excess lube and sharp slaps of skin on skin were almost obscenely loud to Ten’s sensitive ears. They had his cheeks pinking, and pleasure sinking low to coil tighter and tighter in the pit of his belly, urging his movements faster, his thrusts quicker, _harder_ , chasing, chasing, _chasing_ the peak that was just out of reach.

“ _Taeyong_ ,” he moaned, tucking his face into the smooth curve of Taeyong’s neck, savoring the touch of his skin—so much cooler in comparison to Ten’s, who felt like he was burning up from the inside out, everything too much, too _good_ for him.

“You—you feel so good T— _Ten_.” Taeyong hiccuped a little, eyes glazed and mouth open in welcome when Ten peeked up at him. He dragged his nails down Ten’s back, the sting driving Ten’s hips in harder, a deep roll that was really more of a shove which had Taeyong moaning a long, clear note. “So _good_.”

Ten rolled his hips in a slow grind, his ego preening, feeling Taeyong’s orgasm mounting, buzzing in the air, the magic seeded into his very being giving off sparks that played along Ten’s skin. Little kisses to his shoulders, his arms, his back.

“You can bite me,” Ten panted, knowing Taeyong wanted to even if Ten tasted sour to him, the urge automatic, instinctual. “Taeyong, _bite me_.”

Taeyong made a complicated noise high in his throat, the limbs he’d wrapped around Ten constricting, trapping Ten close, giving him no room to pull back anymore, only drive his hips forward in short, sharp thrusts.

He was trying his best to arch his back and roll down to meet Ten’s thrusts, mouth open on useless pants, teeth occasionally bumping against Ten’s skin.

And then, when Ten adjusted his angle, ground down just right, Taeyong seized, teeth coming down sharp on the meat of Ten’s shoulder, piercing skin and muscle alike. Taeyong, anchored in Ten, Ten held tight in Taeyong.

Taeyong’s orgasm crashed through him in waves, keeping him locked in pleasure, tightening around Ten until it was almost hard to breath. It left Ten feeling hazy and hot, drunk on the foreign fragments of cursed magic he could pick up, his own curse crooning at the kindred energy.

All of it had Ten spiralling over the edge, joining Taeyong in the downward free-fall of his own release, Taeyong moaning weakly where his mouth was still latched to Ten’s neck as Ten spilled hotly into him.

They laid together—fit like two puzzle pieces, a little uncomfortable but very happy—basking in the afterglow, until Taeyong detached his teeth, the points retracting to a more normal length, squirming under Ten at the feeling of Ten’s sweat cooling against his skin.

“Towel,” Taeyong said, pushing lightly at Ten’s chest, ignoring the complaints Ten grumbled near his ear. He nipped at Ten’s skin, close enough to the healing bite mark that Ten yelped and tumbled away, limbs flailing for an embarrassing moment as he almost fell. Taeyong rolled onto his side, grimacing faintly at the taste of Ten’s acrid blood on his tongue, before plastering it over with a sweet smile. “A towel...maybe two.”

Ten sighed, a put-upon sound that fooled no one with the way he was smiling back, and hauled himself up off the bed to do as Taeyong asked, pausing to drop a quick kiss to Taeyong’s forehead before heading to the bathroom.

“Happy anniversary,” Ten whispered, a little open, a little fragile. “I’m glad I met you.”

_I’m so lucky to have you._

—

Sometimes, Ten felt like he was being watched. 

Not him _and_ Taeyong—that was a specific vibe, the sharp eyes of an overeager hunter who would eventually get caught. No, it was just _him_.

Just Ten feeling the lingering sensation of cold fingers tightening around his throat. Of a threat closing in.

But then, when he’d chance a subtle look—over his shoulder or across a crowded street—the feeling would disappear. The eyes watching would carefully pull back, vanishing into the milling throngs of people, like a set of retracting claws.

It was immensely unsettling. It had Ten frowning, the instincts he’d honed once upon a time as a hunter itching with warning and suspicion. Twitchy in the face of an invisible presence he couldn’t be sure existed. That only his gut said was actually there.

It stayed in the back of his mind, an itch he couldn’t scratch, until it faded to the background in the face of the qilin’s curse wrecking havoc on his body, leaving him and Taeyong stranded in a small unfinished apartment building, huddled in one of the upper floors where a cool breeze was slipping through the still-open walls.

“You’re taking longer to heal,” Taeyong said, brows furrowed, worrying his bottom lip to the point of breaking skin. He was sitting on the floor by Ten’s side, brushing gentle fingers over Ten’s forehead, unsticking the hairs of his fringe that had gotten matted there with sweat. “I need to get you something.”

“‘M fine,” Ten mumbled, so obviously not fine it was almost laughable. Everything hurt. His body felt like one giant bruise. Even _thinking_ left him with an ache that pulsed at the base of his skull, spearing out into his shoulders for maximum damage. “Just need,” he shuddered in a breath that forced sore muscles to stretch, accommodating the rise and fall of his chest, “some sleep.”

He didn’t want Taeyong to go off on his own, not while he couldn’t join him. He was awkward around humans, always a little too drawn by the heady scent of blood. It’d be an ideal time for hunters to attack, if they wanted. And, when it came to hunters, they always wanted.

Taeyong shook his head though, still frowning down at Ten with a thick layer of motherly concern.

“I sort of—” he paused, cutting himself off, so clearly weighing whether to say the words sitting on his tongue, the conflict playing out in the fidget of his typically still hands and the quick, nervous shift of his eyes. Eventually, he sighed, caving. “I sort of know someone. Here. Someone who could help. I think.” A tiny smile tugged at his lips then, softening the edges of his worry as he folded himself over to press a cool kiss to the apple of Ten’s cheek. “It’d be quick. There and back.”

“You trust them?” Ten asked, doing his best to hold Taeyong’s gaze despite the way his vision swam with exhaustion.

Taeyong pressed his lips into a line, thinking, thinking, always thinking. So much better at it than Ten most of the time.

“Yes. He—yes.”

Ten had lived almost twice as long as Taeyong, though, and had learned to trust less where Taeyong was still learning—having avoided people for too long to grasp the full extent of how he could be both the threat and the threatened. 

Unease swirled in Ten’s gut, not in any condition to dissuade Taeyong and feeling helpless for it.

“If you run into any hunters…” 

“Kill them or run,” Taeyong finished, leaning down to leave a kiss on Ten’s mouth this time, lingering and sweet and so very frustratingly gentle. “I know.”

Ten watched him nimbly hop off the fifth floor landing they’d bunkered down on, fingers curling in the blankets Taeyong had stolen from who-knows-where to swaddle him in—so he didn’t have to lay directly on cold, hard, cement. He didn’t hear Taeyong’s feet hit the ground, always amazed by how lightly vampires could move.

He tried to force himself to relax, then, his nerves jangled and senses dulled from the cursed magic that had ripped through him earlier; magic that had torn apart muscle and tendon, cracked and stretched bone, only to heal it all briefly before repeating the process over and over again. 

He wanted to sleep— _needed_ to sleep—but his body was still stuck on high alert despite his exhaustion, too vulnerable to sink into a restful limbo the way he needed. The most he wound up managing was to stare, antsy and unfocused, out at the slowly brightening sky, dawn’s fingers creeping across the expanse of deep, dark blue in a fiery crawl.

Ten had been sitting like that, mind numb, zoning out while the qilin’s curse pieced him back together molecule by molecule, horns tingling faintly with magic where they connected with his skull, when he heard a sound.

Ten blinked, turning his head towards an unfinished staircase that led to the lower floors.

“Taeyong?” he called out before he could stop himself, full reasoning faculties still lagging, automatically assuming the soft crush of gravel underfoot he heard was Taeyong returning.

He’d been gone a while now, after all. He _should’ve_ been coming back. Should’ve _been_ back.

There was no response, though. Taeyong’s voice didn’t call back in his particular brand of soft tone with a sweet, _“Here!”_

Just still, thick silence.

Ten frowned, full awareness rushing in like a crashing wave, a chill dousing his system in crackling cold.

_Fuck_. 

He tried to push himself up into a less prone position—kneeling, crouching, _anything_ —his muscles shrieking, a stabbing pain lancing through his forearms down to his thighs, dropping him back onto his side with an aching, “ _Oof_.” 

_Fuck, fuck_ , fuck.

_Get up_ , he told his uncooperative body, a desperation he hadn’t felt in years—having grown accustomed to this borrowed power, his own strength—squeezing the breath from his lungs. There were footsteps now, the heels of two pairs clicking softly against the concrete. Not rushed, but not cautious either. Determined.

Ten swore under his breath and tried to rise up into some semblance of a defensive posture again.

_Get_. _Up_.

He’d managed to perch on the balls of his feet, thighs tight and calves burning, when the footsteps reached the stairwell. A steady, crisp clack-clack-clack in time with the pounding of his heart.

Ten watched, body singing with tension, as two figures stepped out onto the open floor across from him.

They were hunters. That much was clear from the slightly shorter man’s crisp black suit, both his tie and the black eyepatch covering his left eye adorned with a glittering silver cross. The man next to him—taller, built out in the shoulders, brown hair done up in a messy knot—wore slightly more traditional clothes, a variation on the type Ten remembered seeing hunters from renowned families don back in his own time.

The taller of the two carried a weapon out in the open that would’ve screamed hunter regardless of his clothing—a sword with a golden hand guard that radiated a bright sort of power, a sharp tang filling the air like the low warning growl of a beast.

The shorter man…

Ten narrowed his eyes, feeling them burn gold, every fibre of his being slipping into defense mode. The shorter man had weapons on him, plural, though Ten could only make out the cold hilt of a silver blade peeking out from behind the man’s back.

Somewhere else on him he had a weapon that wailed, a haunting, distressing sound that had Ten wanting to run. Wanting to escape whatever object had a spirit that made a noise like _that_ sealed inside of it.

“Hello,” the shorter man called out, a pleasant smile painted with soft looking lips playing across his face, the ends of a scar that slashed horizontally over his nose onto his cheek crinkling with the movement. “Lovely morning isn’t it.” He tilted his head, silver hair sifting across his forehead. “Though I guess it isn’t for you.”

Ten bared his teeth in a sneer, a growl bubbling up his throat.

“Quite the rampage you went on last night, lots of destruction. Looked like the type of thing that takes a toll on the body.” The man paused, sweeping a look over Ten’s ragged clothes, his skin—still mottled with bruises—and smiled wider, sweeter, single visible eye curving up. “Lucky for us, or we wouldn’t’ve been able to find you like this.”

Ten felt fear run through him, hot then cold. Primal and fierce, both his and the qilin’s.

He was too injured still to fight, and these hunters...these hunters were strong. Strength radiated from their stance, the way they held their arms, the calm in their expressions, and, most of all, it blared from their weapons.

He’d have to run. He’d have to get away and find Taeyong. They’d have to—

A sharp crack echoed out, concrete being broken, and suddenly the taller of the two hunters was close, too close, his sword drawn and sparking with a trail of violent yellow light, swinging down like lightning for Ten’s neck.

Ten dodged to the left, an inelegant drop and roll, scrambling to his feet with a hissed out curse as he was forced to sidestep another swift attack.

“Ka _i_ ,” the shorter man chided, brows twitched down into a small frown. “We had a _plan_.”

“He was gonna run!” the taller man—Kai—huffed back, gaze sharp with determination as he swung his sword in practiced, graceful, _deadly_ arcs, chasing Ten down without pause. “We should’ve started like this in the first place.”

The shorter man sighed, shaking out his hand with a flick, motion just under his sleeve catching Ten’s eye even as he tucked himself under Kai’s blade and struck out his leg in a sweeping kick.

“I wanted to savor this moment, though,” he sighed, a black blur flashing out like a whip towards Ten, forcing him to twist his body backwards in an awkward flip to dodge, the floor cracking where the attack landed.

Kai narrowed his eyes and lunged, blade finally finding its mark, slicing a bloody line across Ten’s chest. “Savor once we have the horns.”

The fucking horns. Of course.

Ten bit back a grunt of pain, forcing his body to _move_ despite the red seeping warm down his front, spinning and somersaulting away from the black cloth the other hunter was manipulating. It struck like a snake, weaving and tangling and snapping, going for Ten’s joints with a dogged determination until it managed to catch his ankle—silky, cursed velvet wrapping tight—and _constrict_.

Ten dropped to the floor with a howl, his ankle crushed, the skin on his palms scratching and breaking open against the concrete as they took the brunt of his weight.

Pain flared white hot up his leg, leaving him gasping for air, eyes wide as his brain caught up to the shock of the situation. He couldn’t stand, his leg was still trapped with the spirit infused weapon progressively winding higher up his calf, creeping towards his knee, and he didn’t have enough energy in his reserves to heal, let alone escape or properly fight back.

The sword wielding hunter was closing in, a small smile of satisfaction curling a corner of his mouth. The other hunter was still keeping a safe distance, gaze sharp where it was fastened on Ten, his weapon and partner more than enough for Ten as he was now.

Ten felt his breath leave him in a rush, the reality of what was going to happen crashing down on him.

He...he was going to...he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to Taeyong...he couldn’t—

It really was easy to forget how quietly Taeyong could move, when he wanted. How vicious he could be, when he had a reason.

He moved too fast for Ten to track for a moment, stepping onto the scene with an animal’s snarl ripping free from his chest, slamming into the swordsman, sending him flying and his sword skittering free.

“ _Don’t touch him_ ,” he hissed, the sound resonant, his eyes burning a brilliant bloody red, his fangs elongated into long, sharp points.

“Kai!” the shorter hunter shouted, his calm breaking, anger flashing across his soft features as he spotted a growing path of crimson along his partner’s side.

There was blood dripping from Taeyong’s right hand, blood that he ignored while he reached down to yank the black cloth coiling around Ten’s leg off, freeing him.

“Fuck,” Kai groaned, just loud enough to be heard, casting a glare their way as he sat up, strands of hair coming loose from his tie and hanging in his face. “Forgot about the vampi— _Taemin move!_ ”

The shorter hunter, now named, moved with a frightening sort of grace and speed, aided by his weapon in the same way Kai had stabbed his sword into the ground to charge forward earlier. Still, the hunter was only human, and Taeyong was _pissed_.

Taeyong managed to swipe the hunter’s arm at the same moment that the hunter— _Taemin_ —unsheathed the knife at his black, landing his own hit on Taeyong with the sanctified silver.

Taeyong hissed but didn’t stop, driving Taemin back until Kai got up to intervene. At that point, though, the hunters were far enough from Ten that Taeyong, with his speed, only had to turn sharply mid-step and dart back to him.

The hunters couldn’t keep up, Taeyong’s movements a blur as he lifted Ten up into his arms and launched them both out one of the open, unfinished walls.

Not even the whip-like weapon could follow, and as quickly as Taeyong had come, he’d whisked them both away, landing lightly with a soft huff before dashing off into the slowly brightening day.

Taeyong didn’t stop until they were far past the city limits, running single-mindedly towards the safety sheer distance could afford. He ran until it was comfortably morning, sky a pleasant pale blue and nature rising up around them. Taeyong was grimacing under the light, but carried Ten all the way to a shaded alcove of trees before stopping to gently put him down.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before Ten could finish smiling up at him in thanks. “I shouldn’t have left. It didn’t even—I should’ve stayed. I’m so sorry.”

“Woah there,” Ten said, reaching up to cup Taeyong’s cheeks, a little startled but mostly irritated because _none of this_ was Taeyong’s fault.

_“Savor once we have the horns.”_

“They were after me,” Ten said, pulling Taeyong close to kiss away the furrow forming between his brows. “They’ll _always_ be after _me_.”

Taeyong made a small noise, tucking himself close, wrapping his arms around Ten’s waist, cradling Ten like he was something precious.

“I hate that,” Taeyong said, voice cracking, always a little rough from general disuse. “I hate it.”

Ten smiled softly, carding fingers through the dyed strands of Taeyong’s hair. The magic staining it pink was starting to fade, they’d have to make a trip back to the hedge witch they’d befriended if Taeyong wanted the color to keep.

“I know,” he sighed, turning his head just enough to brush a kiss against Taeyong’s temple. 

He decided, then, that he wouldn’t be telling Taeyong about the magic trace he’d sniffed out on him and quashed. The same trace that had unknowingly been placed on Taeyong the last time he’d gone to find help in this city a few years back. A sorcerer’s tracker that the vampire would have had no way to detect on his own. Ten let his eyes fall closed, knowing they’d have to move soon but content to rest for a little longer.

He wouldn’t tell Taeyong that he’d accidentally led those hunters to them. At least not yet. That would have to be a conversation for later, when they talked about those hunters on a whole—Taemin and Kai, so much stronger than any hunter Ten had come across in a very, _very_ long time.

He sighed again, held Taeyong close.

“Thank you for saving me. I love you.”

Taeyong hummed, mouth pressed to the soft skin of Ten’s neck. “Love you too.” A gentle nuzzle against Ten’s fluttering pulse. “And always. _Always_.”

—

Their start went like this:

Ten remembered waking in stages, groggy, head pounding, mouth tasting like iron.

He was in the woods, but _where_ , exactly, he wasn’t sure. He vaguely remembered the area he’d been in last before night fell and the qilin’s rage swept through him in a possessive claim, but beyond that he was fuzzy, the dull ache spreading from his forehead inwards making it hard to think.

“You’re awake,” a soft voice said, hesitant.

Ten jolted up, body screaming in protest but instincts screaming louder. The magic humming through him buzzed in warning, telling him that the man curled in on himself sitting a few feet away was something other, something dangerous. A predator, whose beauty had to be a mechanism for his hunt because it would be wholly unfair if he just _looked like that_.

“Who—” Ten started, coughed, his voice coming out like gravel, scratching up his throat past abused vocal cords.

“Um, you shouldn’t—” an aborted motion in Ten’s direction. A hand—nails painted with black chipped polish—raised as if to help. “You’re still hurt.”

Ten felt his expression sour into a glare, rolling his eyes because, yeah, that much was obvious.

“Can I—can I help?”

“I’ll heal on my own,” Ten said, pushing himself up into a seated position facing the other man. _Monster? Spirit?_ He pursed his lips. He couldn’t tell. “ _You_ look a little rough, though,” he told the man, watching him wince, dull red eyes flitting from Ten to their surroundings and back faster than Ten could track. “Sure you’re in a position to be offering anything?”

The man flinched, looking stricken, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to gnaw on it with a far too sharp canine.

A fang. That was a fang. Ten blinked. The man was a vampire, and, judging by the gaunt sink of his cheeks, he was _starving_.

“You just smelled like pain,” the man said, words coming out in a weak whisper, eyes managing to fasten on Ten for more than a moment. Wide and haunting, sending shivers curling down Ten’s spine. “I...can understand that. Didn’t want to—thought you might like—”

“Thanks,” Ten said, some of the tension that had been lining his limbs while he deliberated the need to run easing away. If this starving vampire hadn’t already attacked, he likely wouldn’t. Besides, Ten _did_ appreciate the company. It’d been...a long, long, _achingly long_ time since he’d woken up from a rage with someone by his side, even if that someone was a stranger. “It’s—yeah, thanks.”

The man nodded, his body still tense, though he was finally holding Ten’s gaze, seemingly drinking Ten in—now that the atmosphere in the small clearing they were huddled in was awkward instead of high-strung.

“I’m Ten,” Ten offered, raising a hand to rub absently at the base of his horns, tenderly brushing a touch over the sharp, broken edges of his right one, wincing at the fresh pain that lanced through him from head to toe—the scream of an exposed nerve-ending, raw and angry. “I’m kinda old. You?”

The man’s mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile playing in the corners of his lips, hinting at an expression that could be beautiful and vibrant on the man’s impossibly handsome face.

“Taeyong.” He smiled then, and oh, _oh_ , he _was_ beautiful. Even so clearly hungry, he was beautiful. Ten stared and stared and stared. “I guess...I’m kinda old, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos/bookmarks are always appreciated if you enjoyed! 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/nu_exooo)


End file.
